


Generic

by unusualJournalist



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Detective Cop Show, Gen, Human AU, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Murder, Murder Mystery, Please be nice I started writing this like 10 years ago
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-16
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23863447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unusualJournalist/pseuds/unusualJournalist
Summary: A young man is found dead in a cafe, supposedly suicide.Detective Alfred Jones is called to the case, an apparent open-and-shut, quick and easy filing.Simple, right? Maybe not so much... Jones feels something bigger's afoot, and he's determined to get to the bottom of it before anyone else gets hurt.
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! So uh, I remembered this gem from fanfic.net that i started *ten years* ago, and never got past the prologue. One whole person favorited it, so I wound up picking it up again, cranked out the first chapter in like 30 minutes, and I'm publishing it now!   
> I know the prologue is a little wonky, but I'm keeping it as is for posterity's sake, cause I think baby-me would appreciate it.   
> Hope you enjoy it, hopefully I can write drama, and... hopefully I don't forget about it for another 10 years.

The young brunette was found lying on the table, face down in his own blood. He was a generic man, in a generic fast food restaurant, leading a generic job. Nothing seemed odd about it. Sure, one or two of the detectives investigating thought that it might be a murder, but that too, was generic. The guy was pretty ordinary. He was from a small country near Russia originally, and had come to America to try and make something of himself. This, in itself, was almost generic.

The young man had green eyes, and shoulder-length brown hair. This had nothing to do with the case, of course... But it could help in finding out who the young man was. His coworkers said that he was a quiet, gentle man, with a slightly sad smile. They never suspected that anything at all of that sort could happen to him. His boss was a man with a large mass, who had supposedly come from Russia. He spoke with a thick accent, and was almost always smiling. He was the prime suspect.

There were others he worked with. A young man with curly hair and terrified eyes was one, and a blonde with glasses was another. One claimed to be his brother. The man supposedly had a girlfriend, but she was nowhere to be found.

One of the paramedics lifted the young man's head from the table, the blood caking his hair to his cheek. HE sighed and clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "What an awful way to go..." One of his subordinates turned to him.

"Suicide, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's what it looks like."

"What could drive someone to that?"

"I don't know man... He must've been pretty messed up." They took the corpse away to be evaluated and then disposed of, a truly generic ending for the body.

The funeral was a plain one. Not many people showed up. The girlfriend was still nowhere to be found. The boss was there, as was the brother. The police made a few small investigations, but after a long while, gave up as well.

The man had sunk into the true meaning of generic.


	2. Spiderwebs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is the first bit I've written for it in ten years. Kind of a Work in Progress at this point, we'll see where it goes.

"Come on, man, this can't be all the information you have for me!"  
The detective removed his feet from the desk and tossed the case file on instead. He was young, stuck in the basement for some unknown cock-up, and was always handed the worst(read: most boring) cases.  
"What's the problem this time, Jones?"

"Are you seriously telling me this was a 'generic' suicide? I mean, what, there's no way he... what was it, picked up a knife, slit his own throat, and then banged his forehead into the table until it bled."  
"Jones..." The higher-up's tone was impatient.  
"That doesn't happen!"  
"Alfred!"  
"What?!"  
The more experienced detective sighed, rubbing his forehead, as he fixed him with a stern glare.  
"Look, I get it. You really wanna solve a cool case, be a hero." He was tall, broad-shouldered. Big ole handlebar moustache, cold eyes with a little hint of kindness behind them.  
"It's not about that!"  
"Shhh. I'm talking now." Jones did shut his mouth, however resignedly, and slumped into his seat. "Listen, I get it. We all get in here hoping to make a big difference, wanting to solve that one big case, prove we are something. But sometimes... A suicide just needs to stay a suicide. Trust me on that one. Keep your head down, don't make waves, and one day you'll be out of the basement and solving big cases. Yeah?"  
"Yeah..." He sighed through his nose, opening the manila envelope again. "You're right. Sorry to make trouble, Burns."  
"Good kid." Burns clapped a hand on his shoulder, and stepped over to the coat rack to grab his jacket.  
"What, you're not gonna stick around and help out?" He snarked, eyebrow lifted, a smirk playing with the corner of his mouth.  
"Ha, good one. Sorry Jones, I've got other fish I need to worry about first."  
"Yeah, that tracks. Have fun, I'll get on filing this one. Open and shut, right?" The door closed behind Burns, and Al opened up his filing cabinet, looking for anything at all that might help. Three hours later, he had an entire corkboard and two borrowed whiteboards spiderwebbed with pieces of yarn, and notes incomprehensible to anyone but himself.  
"Generic, my ass."


End file.
